


Red And White Scrolls

by DobbyRocksSocks



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Because we love Ron here, But Supportive in his way, Fluff, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry maybe has commitment issues?, Hermione ships it, Injuries because Harry is Harry, Lucius is so smooth, M/M, Oops?, Ron is... Ron, Traditional Courtship, We don't know her, We don't talk about Harry's Ex, courting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26566072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DobbyRocksSocks/pseuds/DobbyRocksSocks
Summary: When Harry doesn't take Lucius seriously, Lucius makes an offer to prove himself.
Relationships: Lucius Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 332





	Red And White Scrolls

“I’m not wearing those,” Harry said, shaking his head firmly when Ginny held up a pair of leather trousers. She’d been trying to convince him to buy them since he was nineteen, and given he was now twenty-six, he was surprised she hadn’t yet given up. 

She was quite flighty, with most things. 

Just not this apparently. 

“But it’s  _ your  _ birthday party,” she replied imploringly. “Really, Harry, if you want to be noticed—” 

“Who said I want to be noticed?” Harry asked, arching his eyebrow. “When do I ever want to be noticed?” 

“Come now, Mr Potter. Miss Weasley has a point; leather trousers would look particularly delicious on you.” 

Harry groaned, looking over Ginny’s shoulder to see Lucius stepping into the shop, his usual smarmy smirk already present on his face. Asshole. 

Ginny looked at the trousers, and then turned to look at Lucius, before looking once more at the trousers. 

“See, I don’t even care that he agrees,” she said, flat out whining now. “You have to buy them!” 

“I really don’t,” Harry argued. He raised his arm that already had three shirts and two pairs of jeans hanging over it. “I have these. I’ll just… pick out of these what to wear on the night.” 

“Why did you even bring me if you didn’t want me to find things for you?” She demanded, scowling at him. “I’m here to help!” 

“If you remember correctly, you threatened to hex me if I  _ didn’t  _ bring you with me.” 

She opened her mouth, but Harry turned away for the counter, quickly handing his galleons over. He was very glad that ‘normal’ clothing was now being sold in Wizarding shops, because trips into London with Ginny tagging along as his ‘Style-Guru’ were even more terrifying than this had been. 

The woman behind the counter was biting her lip in an attempt to keep her amusement at bay, and while Harry really did appreciate the effort, she hadn’t been very successful. He took the bagged clothes from her with a wry smile and thanked her quietly, before he turned around. 

Ginny was pouting at him—now that she was in her twenties, it was more ridiculous than cute, but he didn’t dare tell her as much—and Lucius was still watching him from close to the doorway. 

Harry barely managed to suppress the shiver that threatened at those grey eyes very clearly checking him out. Lucius wasn’t even  _ attempting  _ to be subtle. 

“Let’s go, Ginny,” he said, rolling his eyes at her. He nodded at Lucius on his way through the door. “Mr Malfoy.” 

… 

“Ouch,” Harry muttered, sucking on his thumb before blood could spill out onto the marble countertops in his kitchen. That’d teach him to sharpen his knives before using them. 

Sighing, he spelled the cut to heal it, and continued chopping up the cucumber for the salad he was throwing together for lunch. Usually, he’d make something a little more… fun, but Hermione had been at him and Ron to eat healthier, and since his best friends were coming for lunch, he decided to avoid the lecture. 

Ron wouldn’t be pleased, he knew, but it was an unfortunate circumstance of Hermione caring about their health. Though they were still young, Harry knew she had a point. 

They wouldn’t be able to eat like pigs forever and stay fit as fiddles. 

His wards alerted him that his friends had arrived, but he didn’t bother stopping his preparations—he knew they’d let themselves in happily. 

Sure enough, a few moments later, he could hear their bickering voices getting louder as they walked through to the kitchen. 

“Are you… are you making salad?” Ron asked, peering over his shoulder. 

“I am.” 

“Merlin, Harry! I get enough rabbit food at home!” 

Harry snorted. “I’ve got raspberry and lime cheesecake for after?” 

Ron thought for a moment and then nodded. “Better. Are you at least putting some meat in the salad?” 

“Chicken,” Harry confirmed with a grin. “And I can make it a pasta salad if you’d prefer. I have pasta in?” 

“Really, Ron,” Hermione huffed. “You don’t—” 

“All of the pasta,” Ron said, nodding his head vigorously. “All of it.” 

Laughing, Harry grabbed out the bag from the cupboard and tipped some into a pan, filling it with boiling water from his wand before he turned the hob on. While he preferred to do most of his cooking the muggle way, he did enjoy some magical cheats to save time. 

Waiting for water to boil was one of those things he liked to cheat at. 

“So, Ginny told us about your run in with Malfoy sr,” Hermione said, perching on one of the stools at the breakfast bar, when it became obvious she wasn’t going to win the argument about pasta. 

“Did she also tell you that she tried to make me buy the leather trousers again?” Harry asked, mocking a shudder. 

“She did, but don’t try and distract me,” Hermione said, pointing her finger at him. “Ginny said Malfoy was practically salivating over you.” 

“Ew,” Ron said, wrinkling his nose. “Gross.” 

Harry chuckled. “It was nothing, Hermione. Really. You know what he’s like with me, always trying to get a rise out of me by being ridiculous. He’ll stop eventually, if I don’t react to him.” 

Hermione shook her head. “I think he likes you, Harry. Like… actually likes you. He asks me about you sometimes, when we work together.” 

“I hope you don’t tell him anything!” Ron exclaimed, before Harry could ask what Lucius was asking. 

“Of course I don’t,” Hermione replied, frowning. “What kind of a friend do you take me for? I’d never betray Harry to anyone; even someone that I think could be good for him.” 

“What?” 

Harry was echoed by Ron, though there was admittedly more horror than intrigue in Ron’s voice. 

“It’s not like you date anyone our age, is it?” Hermione asked. “You think they’re all childish, and after what you’ve been through, it’s no surprise really. But after Samuel—” 

“We don’t talk about Samuel,” Ron and Harry said together. 

And it was true, they didn’t. Samuel had been Harry’s only ‘real’ relationship since he and Ginny had broken up, and it hadn’t… it hadn’t ended well. Harry had been a mess for almost a year after they’d ended. 

Hermione though, wasn’t to be beat. 

“Okay, okay, we don’t talk about  _ him,  _ but come on, Harry. Lucius is everything you’d look for in a man; he’d challenge you intellectually, he’s strong magically so you wouldn’t have to be forever protecting him. He’s got his own money, so he wouldn’t be using you for yours, and he’s on about as many front pages as you are, so he doesn’t want you for your fame. And don’t even try and tell me you’re not attracted to him, because I’ll call you a damn dirty liar.” 

Harry stared at her for a moment, unable to refute anything she’d said. Then he shook his head. “We fought on opposite sides of a war, Hermione; not to mention that our fundamental beliefs are different. I want someone to settle down with, and since you’re aware of his front page appearances, you’ll also be aware that he’s been seen with quite a few men and women hanging from his arm since he and Narcissa divorced.” 

“And also, in case anyone forgot,” Ron added. “He’s a git.” 

Hermione and Harry exchanged a look and then burst out laughing. Harry shook his head as he drained the pasta. 

“Never change, Ron.” 

… 

“I wasn’t expecting you to be here,” Harry said, when Lucius accosted him halfway across the pop-up tent that had been erected as the venue for Harry’s birthday party. 

It being mid-summer, he hadn’t wanted to be indoors, and Molly and Arthur were nothing if not indulgent. 

“I suppose I thought that at least here, I could be assured of your presence. Everytime I attempt to catch a moment with you, you disappear.” 

There was a reason for that, Harry thought to himself, though he smiled pleasantly at Lucius. 

“Well, it would appear you’ve caught me. What was it you wanted?” 

Lucius’ eyes glittered. “If only that were true. You know exactly what I want, Harry.  _ You _ .” 

Harry shook his head. “You don’t.” 

“I know what I want.” 

“You want  _ Harry Potter; Chosen One, _ ” Harry said softly. “Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not him anymore. I’m just Harry these days. And you don’t know me enough to want me.” 

“You’ll always be the Chosen One, Harry,” Lucius replied softly, his tone gentling. “And you are correct in that I don’t know you  _ well,  _ though I’d like to change that. What I do know about you is that you are kind and forgiving, yet strong and certain, intelligent certainly and protective of the people that mean something to you. I know that you’re willing to help anyone who asks for it, and you’re a believer in second chances. You have strong morals, and a good sense of justice and a wish to see it prevail; but only in the right way. How am I doing so far?” 

Harry blinked at him. Apparently he had been paying more attention to Harry than merely knowing he’d look good in leather. 

Still, Harry shook his head and took a step to the side. “Sorry, Mr Malfoy. I’m flattered, of course, but—” 

“Allow me to court you,” Lucius asked. “The traditional way. No pressure on you to accept, Harry, but it will allow me to show you that I’m serious.” 

“I can’t,” Harry said, though he was admittedly shocked about the request. Wizards—Purebloods in particular—didn’t enter into courtships lightly; they were a precursor to marriage and always thought of in such terms. 

“I won’t let you close enough to hurt me, Lucius,” Harry whispered, suddenly tired of the back and forth. He didn’t want to do this; hadn’t he been hurt enough? He didn’t need someone playing games with his emotions. 

“I have no desire to hurt you, Harry. Quite the opposite, in fact.” 

“Then prove it,” Harry challenged quietly before he stepped completely around Lucius and headed for George, whom he’d been aiming for before he’d been waylaid. He needed a drink. 

… 

The owl arrived three day later. Harry had just gotten home from work, sore and aching. He was getting past the enjoyment of being a hit-wizard, and was beginning to think longingly of the long hours of paperwork at a desk that came with being a regular Auror. 

He didn’t notice it at first, but eventually it hooted to get his attention, startling him. He carefully untied the scroll and then offered up water and owl treats to the bird. The parchment was quality; well made and very clearly expensive, which came as no surprise when Harry noticed that the wax seal had the Malfoy insignia on it. 

He opened the scroll and flattened it out on the breakfast bar, eyes widening when he realised it was an official request to court. 

“Merlin,” he muttered to himself. “He was serious.” 

He hadn’t expected that; even knowing how purebloods felt about courting. He’d thought it more a heat of the moment offer, one to entice Harry into believing that Lucius was actually serious about him. 

He let go of the parchment and watched as it rolled back up into a perfect scroll, only the broken seal evidence that it had been opened at all. Harry walked into the living room and fell to his knees in front of the fireplace, throwing powder in as he called for Ron and Hermione’s residence. 

Thankfully, his best friends were already in the living room, and it was always fun to see Ron jump out of his skin when he realised Harry’s head was in the fire. This time was no different, and he and Hermione shared a laugh over it. 

“What’s wrong, Harry?” Hermione asked, wiping away the tear of laughter that had streamed down her cheek. 

“Lucius sent me an official request to court me.” 

“Bloody hell,” Ron gasped, and Hermione’s eyes widened in shock. 

“Really?” She asked. “What are you going to do?” 

“I… don’t know,” Harry admitted. “I thought he was playing games, just trying to get me into bed, you know? I don’t think he’d go this far for a quick jump though, do you?” 

Even Ron shook his head. “Nah, mate. He wouldn’t… I can’t believe he’s actually serious though. I didn’t think he had it in him.” 

Harry laughed, relaxing a little. Ron and Hermione always made him feel better when strange things happened, which, admittedly, still happened slightly more often than considered normal where Harry was concerned. 

“What if it turns out… badly?” he asked after a moment. “I don’t know if I can go through all that again.” 

“You’ll never know if you don’t take the chance,” Hermione said, though there was sympathy in her eyes. “You can’t close yourself off to love completely because you had the bad luck to be landed with a jerk, Harry. You deserve to be happy.” 

“I am happy,” Harry replied reflexively. 

He wasn’t lying; he really was happy with his life. He’d decided a long time ago that he didn’t need a romantic partner to be happy, and he’d never regretted that decision. 

“I know you are,” Hermione replied. “But I also think that you could stand to have a little romance in your life, Harry. You’re not a monk.” 

“What have monkey’s got to do with anything?” Ron asked, frowning. 

Harry snorted. “Muggle thing, mate, I’m sure Hermione can give you a history on them later.” 

“Cheers, mate,” Ron muttered, rolling his eyes. Then he smiled at Hermione brightly, because she was giving him the side eye that never meant good things. She shook her head and then turned her attention back to Harry. 

“I think you should accept it,” she told him with a small smile. “If, at the end of the courtship, you don’t see anything worth pursuing with Lucius, then you can reject the final contract with no backlash.” 

Harry twisted his lips thoughtfully. 

“I never thought I’d say this,” Ron said. “But I agree with Hermione about this. I still think he’s a git, but… invoking a courtship ritual would have been a big deal for him, Harry. He wouldn’t have done it if he had any doubts about following through on the commitment if you accept at the end.” 

“Thanks, guys. I’m going to go and relax in the bath and regret my career decisions for a while before I make any decisions. I’ll see you Sunday at the Burrow?” 

“You will,” Hermione confirmed. 

“You know where we are if you need us, mate,” Ron added, smiling down at his best friend. 

Harry grinned at them and pulled his head from the fire. He definitely needed that bath; kneeling on the floor hadn’t done his aches  _ any  _ favours. 

… 

“Let’s see it then,” Hermione said, only just barely holding back from squealing. Ron snorted at her enthusiasm, but he was waiting with a deep seated curiosity clear in his eyes as well. 

Harry slipped his robe from his shoulder to show them the upper-arm cuff that Lucius had sent him as the first courting gift. It was beautiful; masculine yet delicate, and the work that had gone into the making of it was clear to see. 

Embedded in the silver were protective spells, most of which Harry knew about but a few he’d had to research before he put the cuff around his arm. It felt like a warm embrace almost, a constant protective feeling that Harry had never had before but that he’d quickly found he liked. 

“Oh, Harry, it’s as beautiful as you described,” Hermione practically  _ cooed.  _ “And he imbibed it with his own magic too?” 

“Protective magic,” Harry confirmed. It wouldn’t help against any of the more severe spells he came up against while out in the field, but stunning spells, disarming charms and lower level hexes would bounce off him like he was wearing a shield. 

It was beyond useful, and certainly thoughtful. 

“And you’re meeting him for dinner on Wednesday?” Ron confirmed, taking his own time to look at the cuff. 

Harry nodded. “Yeah. He, uh, offered to take me to Swan Song, but I asked him for a different restaurant.” 

Ron winced. “Does he know that Sa—I mean, that bloke we don’t talk about—works there?” 

“I don’t know,” Harry admitted. “But he was fine about going somewhere else. We’re meeting up at The Peacock Inn at seven.” 

“You’re meeting there?” Hermione asked, brow furrowing. 

“They’re not allowed to be alone yet,” Ron said, smiling at her when her confusion cleared. “Not until after the second gift at least.” 

Hermione nodded. “I remember now. Well, I expect to hear all about it on Thursday,” she told him with a soft smile. 

“Of course,” Harry agreed. 

He hadn’t admitted it outloud yet, but he was both really nervous, and really excited about the date with Lucius. The arm cuff was better thought out than Harry would have expected from the blond, and it made him curious to see if Lucius was actually more serious than Harry had initially believed him to be. 

Pulling his robe back onto his shoulder, the three friends mingled with the rest of the family, Harry slipping into the kitchen to help Molly with the cooking. It had been a good day, and hopefully, the goodness would continue through the week. 

… 

Talking to Lucius was surprisingly easy, Harry found, as they were served the main course of the four course meal Lucius had insisted on. Between courses, they’d moved from topic to topic easily. 

“So you’re interested in your family history?” Lucius surmised, when Harry finished explaining his search for the Potters in the magical history books. He’d found a few of his ancestors mentioned, but it was slow going. “What of the Blacks?” 

“I search for both,” Harry replied, smiling slightly. “I may not be a Black by direct bloodline, but as the named heir, I do think I should know the history of the family more than I do.” 

“I’ll search my libraries for you,” Lucius offered. “Genealogy has been a hobby of mine for many a year, and my father and grandfather before me. More than tracing bloodlines, my family have always been avid collectors of history when it pertains to the family name.” 

“Thank you,” Harry replied softly. He was quite certain that the Malfoy library would be far more prolific than any books he might find in his searches through book shops when he got a rare day off of work when he didn’t already have plans. 

The conversation turned to lighter subjects, and Harry laughed when Lucius began asking him questions about his favourite things; including his favourite scent, favourite fruit, and oddly, his favourite pattern. 

The way his nose had wrinkled when Harry had told him he had a love for plaid had made Harry lose whatever composure he’d managed to keep with his lie. 

The food was, of course, spectacular, and Lucius had been kind enough to indulge Harry’s sweet tooth by sharing his dessert when Harry polished his own. 

The cheese plate had been the perfect ending, and Harry could feel himself blush when Lucius fed him a perfectly done cracker with his favourite cheese. 

When they were done, and Lucius kissed the back of Harry’s hand like a true gentleman, Harry almost  _ swooned _ . 

It became apparent that he was in more trouble than he’d first believed. 

… 

When the second gift arrived from Lucius, Harry couldn’t quite believe it. Not only had the man followed through with his promise of genealogy books, but he’d also had a wax stamper with the Potter insignia on it, and added in some journals that, when Harry opened the covers, belonged to some of the earlier generation Blacks. 

It was an incredible gift, and certainly proved that Lucius had been listening to what Harry said to him. 

His head was spinning a little with how fast it was moving though. He knew the general speed for courtships was fast; most of the time, they were used in the summertime between families who didn’t want to do an arranged marriage but still wanted some hand in who their children married. 

Harry rubbed a hand down his face and then looked at the books again. 

If nothing else, Lucius was proving himself hard to say no to; but then, Harry had known that before the courtship even begun, hadn’t he? 

… 

Waking up in a hospital bed certainly wasn’t a new thing for Harry. Even if he disregarded the times he’d woken up in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, he’d taken his share of injuries as a Hit Wizard since leaving school, and he was on a first name basis with a lot of the Healers at St. Mungo’s. 

What was a new thing was the blond sleeping in the uncomfortable chair beside his bed. Harry had no idea who had even told Lucius about his injury, but even still, it was a surprise that he was  _ there.  _

Realising the gift he’d been given, Harry simply looked at the man for a long moment. He appeared slightly softer in sleep, as most people did, but he still looked elegant and aristocratic in a way that had always been attractive to Harry. 

His hair was held back by a simple ribbon, and his robes were more creased than Harry had ever seen them before—which was to say, not very much but certainly more than his usual impeccable appearance. 

Harry’s gaze seemed to wake him, given it was only a few minutes before he stirred in the chair. He caught sight of Harry’s eyes and was instantly alert, sitting up in his seat and leaning across the bed to take Harry’s hand in his own. 

“I’d appreciate it if you could take better care of yourself, Mr Potter,” he murmured, and his voice was huskier than Harry had ever heard it, though from emotion or sleep he didn’t know. “You’re rather exceptionally precious to me.” 

“Sorry,” Harry replied, squeezing Lucius’ hand. “It’s the nature of the job, I’m afraid. Do you know what happened?” 

“A rather unfortunate slicing spell,” Lucius said, the distaste clear on his face. “You’re lucky that your partner is quick thinking, or the blood loss could have been fatal.” 

Harry nodded. “I’ll be okay, you know. You didn’t have to sit here for—how long have you been here? How long have  _ I _ been here?” 

Lucius chuckled. “I’ve been here for about ten hours. You just an hour or so longer. Your MIss Granger saw fit to inform me of your injury when she learned of it herself. She was here with Mr Weasley for a while, and asked that I assure you they’ll be here to see you in the morning.” 

Harry nodded. 

“She’s rather… intimidating, your Miss Granger, when she wants to be.” 

Laughing, Harry asked, “I thought you and Hermione worked together occasionally?” 

“Well, yes,” Lucius agreed. “But when we work together, she is usually aiming that spine of steel at others. She saw fit this evening to warn me about playing games with her best friend. You have… you have good friends, Harry. You are as lucky to have them as they are to have you.” 

“Luckier,” Harry corrected, smiling when Lucius shook his head in disagreement. “They’ve been by my side through so much, I don’t even know how I’d function if I didn’t have them now.” 

“Quite. Perhaps you could learn to function enough to not be hospitalised again?” 

Chuckling, Harry lay back down, getting himself more comfortable in the bed. His leg ached where the slashing spell had hit him, but he could feel the numbing effects of the pain potion he’d most certainly been given. 

“You should go home,” he said softly. “Sleep in a real bed. Those chairs are the absolute worst for sleeping in.” 

“I think I’ll remain for a while. Sleep, Harry. I’ll watch over you. You’ll be safe.” 

Harry wanted to argue, but he  _ was  _ tired, and he  _ did  _ feel safer with Lucius there. Closing his eyes, it was only moments before he fell back into a comfortable sleep, lulled there by a gentle thumb stroking the back of his hand back and forth. 

… 

Spending time in Muggle London with Lucius was unexpected, but welcome. He wore a suit—because of course he did—and avoided the more crowded shops, but he was quite happy to wander around the outdoor markets with Harry. 

They ate from a food truck, and bought useless trinkets from a few of the stalls, and Harry couldn’t remember ever having a better time on a date. 

“You are happy here,” Lucius said, a small smile tilting up his lips. “More comfortable than in a restaurant, surely.” 

“It’s not more,” Harry replied. “It’s just… different. It’s more… free, here, I guess. I don’t feel like I’m being watched or judged or that I’ll be making the morning papers if I dare to put my elbows on the table, you know?” 

“You don’t like your fame.” 

Harry just shook his head, because he didn’t like it, but he  _ had  _ learned to live with it. 

“Shall we take a walk through the park before we retire for the evening?” Lucius offered, nodding his head to the gates that led into one of the larger parks in London. 

Harry nodded and accepted the hand that was offered to him, linking their fingers together instinctively. 

They talked quietly while they walked, immersed in one another so completely, that Harry almost fell over a small flower bush. 

Lucius chuckled as he caught him, but the laugh soon melted into something  _ different.  _ His eyes darkened as his pupils dilated, and Harry knew his own were likely doing the same thing, pressed up against Lucius as he was. 

Slowly, projecting his intentions so Harry could push him away, Lucius pressed his lips to Harry’s. 

Harry  _ melted  _ against him, opening his mouth when Lucius prompted him. Lucius’ lips were soft against his, his hand cupping Harry’s face so gently. 

When they parted, Lucius looked down at him with such affection, that Harry felt a lump form in his throat. 

“We should leave,” Lucius murmured regretfully. “Or there’s no saying what I might do and I don’t ever want to give you anything to be sorry for with me. When I have you, it’ll be because you want it, not because of a spur of the moment decision.” 

Harry nodded, but pushed up on his heels to press a last, chaste kiss against Lucius’ lips. 

“Thank you.” 

… 

“He sent the third gift then?” George asked, handing Harry a mug of coffee. They were sitting in the back room of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, the way they did at least once a month to catch up. 

Harry nodded. He and Lucius had been on a total of six dates, each of them ending with a delicious kiss that never went further. 

“Last night,” Harry said. “He sent me a collection of potions; and I believe he made them all himself.” 

George looked curious. “What kind of potions?” 

“Pepper up, healing potions, a few dreamless sleep potions,” Harry listed off, and then blushed. “And four vials of Felix Felicis.” 

George’s eyes widened. “Bloody hell.” 

“I know. I just… It’s up to me now, right? I have to accept him or reject him and I…. I’m stuck.” 

“You’ve been happier lately,” George offered. “Easier in yourself, more… smiley.” 

“Smiley?” 

“Yes. Smiley.” 

Harry snorted. “If I tell him he makes me ‘smiley’, he’ll check me for being addled. But… I’m not ready to be engaged, George. I like him; I really like him, but if I accept, we’re both locked into the contract to marry within a year. I… I don’t want that kind of commitment. Not yet.” 

“You know you don’t need to answer him yet, right?” George offered. “You can draw this out as long as you need too.” 

“It’s not really fair on him though, is it?” Harry asked, before he sipped at his coffee. 

George shrugged. “If he wants to keep you then he’ll understand you wanting to wait a while. I’m pretty sure he wants you for keeps, Harry, but he’ll understand that you’re not sure yet. You didn’t grow up in the world of arranged marriages the way he did.” 

Harry wrinkled his nose. “I guess. I should talk to him, shouldn’t I?” 

Nodding, George said, “You should. I think it’ll be favourable, Harry. And if it’s not, I’ll TP his Manor for you.” 

Harry sighed. “I really shouldn’t have introduced you to Muggle Halloween traditions.” 

… 

“That is a rejection letter,” Lucius said, eyeing the red scroll in Harry’s hand with unconcealed hurt on his face. 

“Let me explain?” Harry asked, stepping past the blond when he was gestured into the Manor. He was nervous, despite the assurances George had given him. 

Lucius crossed his arms and Harry felt awful for hurting him. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to be with you,” Harry said carefully. “I’m… I’m having a hard time with the fact that if I accept the courtship, you and I will be married within a year. I’m not ready for that kind of commitment, not yet. It’s not a reflection on you, Lucius, I promise. You’ve been amazing, more than I ever could have asked for. I wrote this up because I don’t want to keep you hanging on when I can’t promise you forever. Not yet.” 

Lucius looked at him for a moment before he shook his head. “Foolish man,” he murmured. “Don’t you know that I’d wait a lifetime for you, Harry Potter?” 

Harry felt his heart jump in his chest as barely constrained hope surged through him. He held up the red scroll. “So you don’t want this?” 

Lucius shook his head. “Absolutely not. I’ll wait for you as long as I must, Harry. Take the time you need to make the decision you want to, not because you feel forced.” 

Harry looked at the parchment in his hands and then smiled. With wandless magic, he forced the scroll to burn into ashes.

“Thank you, Lucius.” 

Lucius swept him up in a warm embrace. “You’ll take years off my life with your antics, Harry, but I wouldn’t change a second of it for anything.” 

… 

**Epilogue**

“Can you believe it’s been a year since you first offered to court me?” Harry asked, curled into Lucius’ side with his head on his shoulder. 

“The best of my life so far,” Lucius replied, pressing a kiss to the top of Harry’s head. 

“Mine too,” Harry agreed. “Which is why—” he pulled the white scroll from his pocket. “I’d like to accept your courtship, Lucius. If you’ll still have me for a husband.” 

Lucius’ eyes widened as he took the scroll from Harry, a gold flash emanating from it as he acknowledged the acceptance for what it was. 

“Is it not supposed to be you who gets gifts today?” he asked, looking down at Harry with love-filled eyes. 

Harry smiled. “That was a gift to myself. I love you, Lucius.” 

“Oh, my Harry. I love you too.” 


End file.
